


paper stones

by harukkum



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate universe - Mafia, Angst, Betrayal, M/M, More characters/relationships/tags to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-15 19:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8070001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harukkum/pseuds/harukkum
Summary: wonwoo was an example of who he needed to protect with his job. he was an example for why he took to being on the police force. he wanted to protect. that was the nature of him. protect not only things important to him, but all good in this world.





	1. one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> putting this out there that the entirety of this work will be written in small random moments in the AU's timeline ;; i do not plan on writing out an entire story revolving around this, mainly because there are still many loose ends to be compromised && i've plotted this with a few friends so these are just my writings based on what we have written.

minghao’s hands reach out desperately for a body, a warmth that helps take away the dark images. his eyes are squeezed shut and he’s gasping on air as if he’s been dunked underwater. his body shakes violently as if it’ll trigger something, and he’s just hoping that it’ll respond quick enough. something warm and wet slips down his cheek but he’s still trying to clutch onto air.

there’s a reason why he doesn’t like deep sleeping and why he only sleeps only a few hours at a time. he’s reminded of it when he feels lithe fingers encase his fingers still, and he’s jolted awake from the darkness to a more familiar pitch black.

minghao chokes on air, swallowing down a dry gulp and feels a hand laying hesitantly on the skin of his throat. his eyes peek open and peer at a dimly lit brunet who looks at him with eyes filled with worry. the hand on his neck stiffens for a moment but relaxes and slides down to the nape of his neck. minghao’s body responds instantly, calming his violent tremors into gentle shivers.

“what’s wrong?”

he visibly softens at the deep timbre of his voice, a shaky sigh snaking out between his lips once he regains his breath. his hand craddled by the other’s slowly moves up to palm at the arm reaching around his neck. he shakes his head, scooting just a bit closer to cling to the scent of pumpkin spice and warmth. their positions shift a bit, compromising to minghao pressing his nose just a bit below wonwoo’s neck. he’s reminded of something that’s synonymous to _home_.

“nothing. can you wake me up in an hour or two?”

“or two,” the older answers.

wonwoo’s lips ghost the crown of his head; the feeling of warm breaths against his scalp lulls the younger back to sleep.

to be a policeman meant he had to be on call whenever, and also meant he wouldn’t be able to stay pure all of his life. nightmares haunted the deep sleep realm, but wonwoo anchors him down just enough to understand fiction from reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my writing blog !](http://taeokki.tumblr.com)


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> curses wonwoo, curses his naivety. curses his tiptoeing affection. curses his blind walk between the lines of what is real and what isn’t. he isn’t sure which side he’s on now as he turns his back on the door, sliding down it haphazardly as hot tears leave tracks down his cheeks.
> 
> he curses it all. he curses himself for letting this happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( optional: [song track](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ABGot6JvcaI) )

_ they smiled when meeting at the front of the supermarket. it wasn’t a date night, but it could be. they would walk right inside the building conversing casually about what to have for dinner tonight and breakfast the next morning. small discourse would be quickly resolved over the better options for ingredients, whether it was cheaper or better quality or both. dinner would be made and they’d settle comfortably in bed together. _

_ minghao knew wonwoo liked to stay some nights. knew that it helped take away the stress from his job like how when he was there it’d take away minghao’s. that’s all he knew though — that wonwoo was employed and that his job was taxing to his sanity. much like minghao couldn’t let himself slip to sleep for too long because of the likelihood of falling into paralysis, it does a number to his wellbeing. _

_ he didn’t pry. it wasn’t his place to. _

_ wonwoo didn’t pry either. that was fine too. _

but these memories are just memories, and minghao doesn’t know what falls between being asleep and awake now.

_ casual coffee outings ( that’s what he called them in his head ) were one of minghao’s favourite things to look forward to head to before reporting into the station. wonwoo was an example of who he needed to protect with his job. he was an example for why he took to being on the police force. he wanted to protect. that was the nature of him. protect not only things important to him, but all good in this world. _

_ coffee was necessary for him to stay awake — and also, he quite liked the taste of macchiatos. wonwoo later revealed that when they first met it was his first time there. he became a regular when meeting minghao. minghao calls him cheesy for that. _

they always smiled at each other that way. minghao wonders if any of those times were real to wonwoo like it was to him.

_ their limbs didn’t exactly tangle, but minghao especially liked to keep a leg hauled over wonwoo’s. it was still early in the night, but there was a little something more stressing the younger out than his usual work escapades. _

_ “hyung?” _

_ “hm?” _

_ “what do i do about this?” _

_ minghao takes his hand and guides it to the chest; wonwoo feels faint, rapid thumps against his heart. _

_ one, two, three. _

_ the gap between them closes gradually, and minghao’s lips meet his. it’s his first kiss — their first kiss. _

he bites down on his tongue to keep himself from saying anything as he watches the familiar face sitting in the chair of the interrogation room stares downcast at an empty table, eyes null of any emotion minghao once saw in them. he curses under his breath.

curses wonwoo, curses his naivety. curses his tiptoeing affection. curses his blind walk between the lines of what is real and what isn’t. he isn’t sure which side he’s on now as he turns his back on the door, sliding down it haphazardly as hot tears leave tracks down his cheeks.

he curses it all. he curses himself for letting this happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my writing blog !](http://taeokki.tumblr.com/)


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( optional: [song track](https://youtu.be/W6QjKT1A2pI) \+ [lyrics](http://www.kiwi-musume.com/lyrics/hikki/heartstation/prisoneroflove.html) )

_ fool me once _ —

minghao looks at the older man; wonwoo smiles subtly when their eyes meet. the look in them flicker from clouded to as clear as the night sky. it’s intoxicating, in a way. the way a person wants to dive and engulf themselves into a dark sea of stars and watch the moon be a gentle light at a closer view. that’s what he feels when he looks him directly in the eyes. the corner of his lips flicker up out of habit and what seems to be something short of a chuckle resounds in the back of his throat as acknowledgement.

but of course, there’s always things lurking in the shadows of the dark.

he tries to find peace in where they are now — in the middle of a department store because he’s running low on all of these necessities (toothpaste, shampoo, laundry detergent, etc.), and wonwoo’s with him because — because.

because minghao’s home is almost his too.

their clothes mix to the point it doesn’t matter who wears what, so long as the scent of pumpkin spice remains as a trademark on all the older brunet’s clothes and sea salt that of the younger chinese man. there’s always an extra phone and pager chargers for wonwoo when he stays. their shoes are indecipherable from who they originally came from at the doorway. there’s two cups and toothbrushes at the sink of minghao’s bathroom. there’s only a single bottle of shampoo and conditioner but it runs out too often when more than one person uses it.

peace hangs over them just enough that there is no need for a certain exchange of words. it’s —  _ domestic _ . welcoming for the two. wonwoo likes this part of his life. the only part where he genuinely enjoys it.

minghao enjoys it as much as he does — but the hand he has on a shampoo brand lowers when he recalls the echoing laughs of seungcheol that cave in on him. seungcheol, his laugh anything but kind, but nothing remotely like menacing. there’s desperation in it, a hint of pity, and something that makes him believe that despite all of this commotion, their friendship was still genuine despite the circumstances.

_ — shame on you; _

_ fool me twice — _

“…love y—“

“what?”

minghao remains silent — he doesn’t expect wonwoo to be awake beside him when he starts. the older man peers through darkness to look at him, or at least try to. he looks at him in silence, his face not cracking despite feeling the discomfort in his chest shifting rapidly. his hand on his pillow squeezes the sheets of the case and he releases a shaky breath.

wonwoo waits for a continuation. he hopes for one. he knows he shouldn’t, not when both of their lives are essentially on the line partly because of what they share.

they share — a home. part of a life.

a life where either had to chase the other for a different reason, had to become desensitized from current traumas, and could smile at each other as easily as they did when just beginning their friendship.

their relationship has become  _ something _ . they’re not sure what.

seungcheol wasn’t sure either, but knew to warn wonwoo plenty of times. after being detained, there was a strain that fell into the waters their life.

doubt, doubt,  _ doubt _ .

minghao pieces it one by one, increasingly denying it,  _ himself _ and what he stood for. he doesn’t want this. if he had known his life was going to come down to this, he would’ve done everything in his power to prevent it from becoming anything like a tragedy worse than romeo & juliet.

regardless though, he watches at the both of them stay together.

distance makes the heart grow fonder — it’s becoming truer the more he thinks about it on a daily.

he knows what wonwoo is at this point, and it’s very much likely that said brunet knows who he is as well.

it  _ hurts _ . he hates it, he hates it. he feels like a prisoner rather than a policeman. but he supposes that his role of detaining comes with the necessity of locking away his feelings when need be.

he should leave — no, make  _ wonwoo _ leave. this was his house. his life. but it’s too late. there is emptiness in being alone rather than any connotation of freedom when he thinks about it.

he suffers, looking wonwoo in the eyes. he suffers right now, looking at him in the dark with nothing to say.

wonwoo breathes out a sigh and it bounces off the surface of minghao’s face. the younger wrinkles his nose, squirming under the comforter for a moment before he settles and sighs against wonwoo’s face in return. the older’s lip quirks up at the corner, waiting patiently for anything else other than the exchange of each other’s breaths and a staring contest.

minghao doesn’t continue what he starts — in words at least. instead, the hand on his pillow relinquishes its hold to slide down to the fabric of wonwoo’s shirt. he clutches the collar of it tightly, tugging on it gently towards him as if there was still more room between them. he tugs it closer and closer, watching wonwoo lower his eyelids, and hesitates for a moment. their breaths mingle between parted lips and it kind of stinks but not to the point of unbearable. he releases another sigh, only breathing it out to the other’s lips.

the distance closes, their lips meeting and remaining for long moments. then he pulls away just a bit — enough for them to see each other’s faces in full without going crosseyed. wonwoo looks at him again and he remains still.

wonwoo closes the distance between the again, and minghao lets a single tear roll down the side of his cheek, and absorb into the fabric of his pillow case.

_ — shame on me. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my writing blog !](http://taeokki.tumblr.com/)


End file.
